To find the meaning of life, one first has to find the meaning of death.
To do that, one has to die. Oops.
If one knows nothing that one would die for, then one's life has no meaning.
On the other hand, it is never pleasant to find out that there are things one will die for. This is mainly because death is usually imminent at that point.
Inviting a serial killer into one's home to find out that one will, in fact, die for one's family is a course of action I wouldn't recommend to anyone. (Not least of all because there is the possibility that one won't want to.)